Shadows in the Forest
by TuitionalFlea33
Summary: William Scathlocke, the Lady Marian's one friend is outlawed, only then does she realize her love for him, also her feelings for Sir Guy of Gisbourne become more apparent. Robert Huntington is injured, but doesn't show his pain to anyone. Original Story!
1. Chapter One: I Will Protect You

**_**Shadows in the Forest**_**

**Chapter One: I Will Protect You**

Will walked through the forest, the leaves crunching softly beneath his feet. A whistle of a playful, cheerful tune came to his lips to be caught and tossed to the skies by the mischievous breeze. He cared not, however, for today, he was free. Free from all lessons, from the imposing discipline of Brother Peter. He grinned broadly, as the sun floated down through the leaves to grace the raven hair of his companion.

Her raven hair, unlike his, shown with a splendor, reflecting and catching the sun's beams, her violet eyes dancing and laughing at him and all the world.

"It's lovely, isn't it, William," she said pausing to spin in a circle, her face turned towards the sky, laughing.

He couldn't help but smile back at her. "It is beautiful, Marian, but not at wonderful as you," he teased.

She looked at him, a blush rising on her pale cheeks, then the blush disappearing she slapped him good-naturedly on the shoulder.

Will turned when he heard a snort of disgust behind him. Matthew Huntington was walking behind them, kicking at the fallen leaves. "What, Matt?"

"You two make me sick," he muttered.

Will grunted in response and turned back, continuing to walk, his smile now gone.

"Oh, Mattie, why'd you have to do that?" Marian asked, she had stopped to talk to Matthew.

William turned again to watch the argument that was sure to unfold between his two friends.

"He shouldn't say stuff like that to you," Matthew said sullenly.

"And why not?" Marian fumed, her violet eyes burning.

"You know why."

"That's not for years yet," she shot back, her anger not as fierce as before.

"Oh, really," Matt said sarcastically, "Willie's fifteen, you're fourteen, and I'm sixteen, it'll only be a year, three at the most. You know just as well as he does, that it's inappropriate for him to be saying stuff like that to you. He can't have you, so he shouldn't even be thinking about it."

"And who says I'm thinking about it?" Will broke in, interrupting, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Robert says so, he knows much more than you."

"Screw Robin," Will said vehemently, "And what would he know about it, he's never been betrothed."

"Screw you, Willie, you know that ain't true, he was once," Matthew shouted, taking a step forward.

William's eyes went flat, his face was set, tension showing in every muscle. He rushed forward, Matt had gone too far that time, but he came up short when Marian stepped between the two of them, a hand pressing against each of their chests.

She looked at both of them, tears brimming in her violet eyes, "Please, don't.'

Will looked down at her, her beautiful eyes pleading and filled with tears and all his anger towards Matthew dissipated. "Sorry, Matt, I didn't mean it," he said, his green-gray eyes meeting Matthew's brown ones.

Matt continued to scowl, and then spat in William's face. "Not forgiven," he snarled.

"Well, what have we here?" A rough voice said from behind the group of adolescents.

As one, Marian, Matt, and Will spun around to face the stranger. William stared at the man's face, he was scowling, his face was ruddy, his dark blonde hair hung in greasy strands about his face, and there was something about the man's expression and nose that made him feel as if he should know this man.

"So am I going to get an answer, or will I have to hurt the girlie?" he asked pleasantly.

Will just continued to glare at the intruder, his heart pounding furiously in his chest. He didn't plan on answering this rude outlaw until he felt Marian move closer to him and gripped his arm with one hand, while the other slid into his own. He turned to look at her, her eyes were wide and bright with fear, and she was watching him. He couldn't, wouldn't let anyone hurt her. "I'll protect you," he whispered quietly to her. The louder so that the man could hear him, "I am William Scathlocke, and my companions are Matthew and Marian."

"Their full names?" the man demanded.

"Matthew son of John, and Marian daughter of Hugh, children of servants, they're of no importance." William saw Matt stiffen at his dismissal of his own importance. 'Keep your bloody mouth shut,' Will silently pleaded, hoping that his friend would see that he was trying save him and Marian. He gave Marian's hand a gentle squeeze but he did not dare to look at her again.

The man nodded, his greasy hair swinging back and forth, an evil smile on his face.

Will released the breath that he hadn't realized that he was holding. The man was going to believe it.

Then someone grabbed the back of his collar, jerking him roughly backwards. While he was off balance, the person grabbed the upper part of his left arm and pressed a dagger against his throat, applying just enough pressure to break the skin. It happened so quickly that he didn't have time to think back or to even think about protesting. The pain seemed to radiate from the edges of the cut on his neck and he had to resist the urge to wipe the blood from his throat as it trickled uncomfortably down to his tunic where it was soaked up leaving a spreading red stain.

"Don't you even think of hurting him," Matthew snarled, authority creeping into his face.

"And why not, boy, and what can you do about it, you're just a servant?"

Matthew drew himself up to his impressive almost two-meter height and said in a voice that William recognized as that of Jonathan Huntington's when he was dealing with fools. "Because, I say so, scum."

"Matthew son of John a servant, indeed," the man laughed. "Who are you really, boy?"

"Don't --" Will started to say, but the dagger cutting a little deeper into his skin kept him from continuing.

"Matthew Huntington son of Jonathan the Earl of Huntington," Matthew said, squaring his shoulders off.

The man nodded again, another evil grin plastered on his ruddy face.

Marian screamed.

Will jerked trying to see what was happening to her, but the knife dug even deeper into his skin causing him to gasp in pain. However, now he could see her, another man was holding her, pinning her arms to her sides. Tears were sliding down Marian's cheeks, something she normally wouldn't allow to happen, but now they flowed unchecked because she couldn't use her hands. Then he turned back to look at Matthew, rage was now burning in his face.

"And her?" the man asked politely. "Who's she? The Lionheart's bastard daughter, a daughter of Lord Buckingham, a French princess, is she one of those by any chance?"

"No," Matthew growled, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"Oh, then who is she, not Marian daughter of Hugh by any chance," he said, "I don't believe anything that that whelp, William, told me."

Matthew kept quiet and the man sighed.

Marian screamed again and began to struggle against her captor. William turned his gaze towards her, another man had come out of the trees, a long, serrated dagger held low in his right hand, and he was slowly advancing on Marian.

"She's a whore, a prostitute, William and I hire her on a regular basis and we don't want our fathers' to know," Matthew said in a conceding tone.

"Finally," the man spat, "an honest answer out of one of you damned nobles. Nat, let the girl go."

"But, Warren, she's a whore, why don't we keep her, nobody'll miss her and she'd keep us warm on cold nights," Nat said in a wheedling tone.

Will's eyes didn't leave Marian's face, he saw shock at Matthew's words but she tried to hide it, she would accept that slight if it allowed her to leave and get help for her two friends. Fear flashed across her face when her captor spoke but relief followed when Warren spoke.

"No, let her go, Nat, we don't need her, and anyways if she got loose she'd probably tell the sheriff 'bout us," Warren commanded.

Nat released Marian grudgingly and snarled, "Get outta here." Nevertheless, as she fled, her raven hair flying out behind her, his eyes linger on her retreating figure. "So," he said after Marian had disappeared from sight, "what're we going to do with these two?"

William had been watching Marian, too, silently urging her to run faster. He knew that she was going to Huntington Manor where Matthew's older brothers, Richard, Benjamin, Robert, and his father Jonathan would be, along with the Sheriff and his son, Reynold, they were visiting the earl, or at least they had been when Matthew had left. Now he looked back at Warren, still begging Marian to run faster, and an evil grin slowly spread across the outlaw's face.

"Well, we all know that Huntington's got plenty of money, and I don't know about Scathlocke, but if he doesn't we kill his whelp," Warren said, greed shining in his eyes. "Bind Huntington's brat," and then looking at William added, "don't bother with the other one, Gurth, he's too small to cause any real trouble."

William scowled at the man, he could cause trouble if he wanted too, maybe, and he wasn't that sure. He heard Gurth chuckle as he withdrew the dagger, anger flared in his chest, but he managed to keep himself from doing anything foolish.

The men were leaving and they fell into a single file line, Gurth shoved Will into line behind Matthew whose hands were now bound tightly behind him. They were moving at a fast clip and they weren't following a trail, Will stumbled several times over roots that he didn't have time to see before he encountered them.

Matthew was faring even worse, with his hands bound, the way they were he couldn't catch himself when he fell and he had to be dragged to his feet by Nat.

After they'd been walking for over a quarter of an hour Matt fell again and this time, Will rushed forward to help his friend, but after he pulled him to his feet, he was seized by the back of his collar and dragged back. "Do that again, pretty boy," Gurth growled into his ear in low tones, "and you won't be so pretty anymore." Then he released Will who gave him a fearful backwards glance before hurrying to catch up with the line.

**

* * *

**

Marian was gasping by the time she reached Huntington Manor, but she didn't dare stop. She had to get Matt's brothers. She dashed through the gate and up the steps to the great doors of the house, she wrenched one open, and started off at a run down the hall, only to be stopped by Otto, Earl Jonathon's steward.

"Lady Marian, why are you running?" he asked in a condescending tone.

"To annoy you," she snapped, "I've got to find Earl Jonathan."

"He's in the dining hall but he is entertaining visitors--."

Marian dashed off before he could finish his sentence, she knew exactly where the Great Hall was and visitors meant the Lord Sheriff and his son.

She didn't stop to open the door, she just continued to run, letting her momentum carry her through and open the door. She stopped once she was through and all conversation in the room stopped. Wilfred deLacey and Jonathan Huntington turned and looked at her.

"What's wrong, Marian?" Wilfred asked rising, he was a friend of her father's and he knew by her expression that something was wrong.

"Where's my Matthew?" Jonathan asked, also rising.

She stared at them trying to formulate an answer, "Outlaws," was all she was able to come up with. Moreover, that was all it took. Matt's brothers and Reynold deLacey, who'd been listening, were on their feet and out the door following their father and the sheriff. Within moments, the room was empty but the corridor that led to the courtyard was filled with shouts and chaos. She rushed out to the courtyard to find all the men saddling their horses; they didn't seem to notice her. Marian just stood there, watched and was ignored.

She felt empty and almost sick with worry for her friends. As the men began to mount she was torn from her reverie, by Otto who had taken hold of her arm was pulling her away from the horses. "Wait, let go of me!" she shouted at Otto, and when he immediately released her she continued, "I want to come, too!" It seemed that everyone was ignoring her, until Robert Huntington brought his horse up to her.

He looked down at her, his brown eyes belying the worry that he too felt. "Are you sure?" he questioned quietly. "There might be blood."

"I don't care, I just can't stand the thought of staying behind," Marian said, her gut twisting with worry, "to be eaten alive by my fear."

"Okay, then," he said with a tight smile. "Give me your hand." She did, and he hoisted her into the saddle in front of him. "Quiet," he ordered in a whisper, "I don't think my father or Wilfred will approve of you coming."

Marian nodded.

After he saw her agreement, he continued, "When we get close I'll stop and put you on the ground. From there, you can do, as you will, though I think it would be best if you climbed a tree so you'll be out of danger.

**

* * *

**

William was getting tired of being pushed around, but at least it wasn't happening right now. He and Matthew had been pushed into a small, crude building, the only building as far as Will could see. There was a whole deer hide covering the only opening in the small hut, the door, and from the stink, it hadn't been cured properly.

Matt's hands were still bound and he was cursing inventively.

"Matt, shut up," Will muttered, he only half-wanted his friend to hear him.

"Why?" Matthew snapped.

"I want to think," William explained, standing up and dusting off his clothes.

"And I repeat, why?"

"We've gotta get out of here, don't we? Or are they so hospitable that you want to stay? 'Cause if you do, that can be arranged," he said coldly. He didn't mean to say it that meanly, it just came out that way, he wanted to be anywhere except the dark hole that he was in.

"No, I want to go home, too," Matt murmured, "And," he added more loudly, "I want to get out of these ropes." Matthew began to pull against the ropes that bound his hands.

"Here let me help," William offered, he wanted to mend the small rift that had been growing between them for the past weeks. Secretly Will thought it was because of Marian, though neither of them was willing to admit it; they just pretended that it wasn't there. However, it was there and it made itself evident in the petty arguments that the two boys got into.

William's fingers were thin and deft so the knots were soon undone, and Matt was able to move freely. His first movement was to move closer to the door.

Will shook his head. "No, look," he said pointing at the shadows in the thin, uneven, strips of light that made it around and under the partially cured hide. Matthew looked and immediately saw what his friend meant, guards, two of them.

"Then want do we do?" he asked, his eyes straining to see his friend's expression in the faint light.

"I've got a plan."

Matthew rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh, he didn't have to see William's face to know that he was wearing an evil grin that stretched across his entire face. "I don't suppose you'll tell me what it is before hand."

"Nope, too complicated to explain," Will said shaking his head.

"You know that I hate it when you do this," Matt hissed to his friend.

"I know," Will grinned, "but have I ever failed you? No. So trust me now."

"Not if I can help it, which, apparently I can't."

"Okay, hit me."

"What?" Matthew asked, staring at his friend.

"I mean it, hit me, hard," William said, steeling himself for the pain, then added, "not the body, my face."

Matthew looked hard at his dark haired companion, he couldn't really be serious.

"Do it," Will hissed looking Matt straight in the eye.

Matthew heaved a sigh and tensed. Then with all his might slammed his fist into his friend's face. He was rewarded, or not, with a warm spurt of blood gushed from his friend's nose. "Oh, God, are you all right, Will?"

"No, but thads the point," William said through the blood, then he gingerly touched his nose, his tunic was already soaked in sticky red stuff. "I think it's broken," he added with a wince.

"I'm sorry."

"No, don't be, this is what we want." Will was trying to stanch the blood flow with the sleeve of his tunic to no avail. Then giving up and just wiping some off his face with the back of his hand and forearm, leaving a vivid red streak running the entire length of his lower arm. "Okay, drag me out, act like it's all my fault--"

"Well, the blood is," Matt muttered to Will's amusement.

"-- and panic, we hope that they'll panic, too, thus creating the perfect window for escape," William explained.

"'We 'hope''", Matthew said incredulously.

"Yes, we hope."

**

* * *

**

Marian was riding behind Robert, her face pressed against his broad back, and clinging on for dear life. She'd never ridden like that before, and she wasn't enjoying the experience. They were still in the back of the group, but they were now even with Benjamin, he'd seen Marian and just nodded, then began to pretend that she wasn't there.

They had quickly returned to the spot where she and her companions had been waylaid. To her it was easily recognizable, she didn't know if she'd ever be able to forget it. Nevertheless, to the others of the party it was clear that many had been there not long before and the path they had taken away from that place was easy to follow. They didn't seem to care if anyone was going to follow them, or they didn't think that they'd be followed.

Soon Jonathan and his captain of arms, Drail, held up a clenched fist. Marian started when Robert reined his horse in and she peered around his back. Up ahead, through the trees, there were a group of men standing in a circle in front of a crude hut. She looked closer and saw two were holding Matthew fast as he struggled, trying to throw his captors off; there was blood on his blue tunic. Frantically she started to look for Will and not seeing him, panic began to rise in her chest, but it was cut short when Robert turned to speak to her. "It's time for you to get off, Lady," he said quietly, offering his arm to help her down. Marian ignored it and just swung one leg over and slid off. "Remember what I told you," he said looking her straight in the eyes.

Marian nodded, avoiding his gaze.

"Good," he said with a small smile but even that seemed broken with worry. Then they began to move again, orders of a plan had been passed down the line.

Marian stood still for a moment, and then took off into the trees. She had to see if Will was okay. As she drew closer to the clearing, she took care to watch where she put her feet. When she was as close as she dared to get, she found a likely tree and scrambled up into its lofty branches. Marian was as comfortable in a tree as in her own bed, in a way, she didn't think that the trees would let her fall. At other times, she felt as if she was part of the forest in a way that William and Matthew never could be. She slowly moved out on a broad limb hoping to be able to see better.

Then she saw Will and his cream tunic was stained crimson.

:-:-:-:-:

Will was laying flat on his back with Gurth straddling his chest, and his knees were holding down Will's arms just below the elbow.

"Told you, pretty boy," Gurth said, running the point of his knife gently across William's cheek, and a wicked smile lite up his face as a shiver passed through the boy's body. "I told you if you tried it again, you wouldn't be so pretty anymore." With that, he fingered his prisoner's broken nose. A wave of agony ran through Will's body causing him to yelp in pain. His body arched in response to the pain and tried to throw Gurth off, but he just laughed.

When Will stopped struggling and when he could think clearly again, he glared angrily up at his captor, this wasn't at all like he'd planned. He was trapped, and Matthew wasn't any closer to being free either.

"What should I take first, pretty boy? Your nose, it won't be broken anymore?" Gurth said cruelly, "Your ears?" Gurth put his knife under Will's left ear and jerked it up. Will gasped as this new pain was added to the ones he already had, he shivered as this new blood poured over his neck and into the ground. "Only a small cut, pretty one, only a small one. So what should I take? Your manhood?" The knife wandered lower.

Panic flashed through Will, and once again, he tried desperately to throw the man off of his chest.

**

* * *

**

Marian watched in horror as the man cut Will's ear, and buried her face into the rough bark trying to block out the sound of his pain-filled gasp. Where was Robert, where was he, they had to get her friends out now! She looked for any sign of them, tears flowing down her cheeks, where were they?!

There! Now she saw them, they were moving in now. A smile of relief crossed her lips, and then she turned her focus back to William. She couldn't help but smile when she saw Robert jerk the man off William throwing the outlaw to the ground.

**

* * *

**

Will continued to fight against his captor, trying desperately to free at least one of his arms. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Matthew's brothers, and Robert was coming this way, but Gurth must have seen Rob, too. "It seems we won't be able to finish our conversation properly, pretty boy," Gurth purred, "We'll just have to speed it up."

A cold wave passed down his spine at the cold, empty look in his captor's eyes. Then Gurth moved quickly and a flare of pain and agony appeared just under his ribs on the left side. He screamed, trying to release some of the pain, but it remained, crashing over his consciousness in waves, a fire flaring, receding, and then flaring again.

He barely noticed when the foul smelling Gurth was pulled of his chest, a wave of warmth swept through his body, lessening the pain for a few brief moments, before it returned to an unusual extent. He curled over on his side, his arms wrapped about his chest.

**

* * *

**

Robert stared in horror at William Scathlocke, and then dropped to his knees beside the boy. "Ben, I could use some help!" he shouted, needing, wanting his brother to help him. He rolled the boy over onto his back, and held his shoulders down, saying all the time, "It's all right, Will, we're gonna take care of you. You're going to be okay."

Ben was soon by his side. Robert looked at his eldest brother, an unspoken question in his eyes. "If we get help for him soon, he should be fine, as long as it didn't slice any of his organs," Benjamin said after a few minutes of examining the wound. "Better off than Matthew," he added so quietly that Robert almost didn't hear.

"What!" Robert exclaimed, staring at his brother, "What's wrong with Matt?!"

Benjamin looked sadly at his now-youngest brother, "Mattie's gone, Rob, I don't know how, he still lives but not for much longer, he's got an arrow in his chest."

Robert dropped his gaze to the boy who was cringing in pain in front of him, tears filling his eyes, but he hastily swept them aside, he had a job to do right now, Will needed help as soon as possible. "Help me, Ben; I gotta get him on my horse."

Ben nodded and deftly scooped the lad into his arms and followed his younger brother to his horse. The others were mounting their horses; the outlaws were either dead, or bound. The ones that were bound were tied to the saddles of the some of the guardsmen. Matthew was being placed in front of Richard whose face was pale. As soon as Robert was settled onto his own horse, he lifted the wounded boy and helped situate him into a position in front of his youngest brother.

"Benjamin, you're going to have to get Marian," Robert said solemnly, regretting that he had brought the girl with them.

Ben nodded quietly and went to find the girl.

**

* * *

**

**A/N: **This is the new chapter one, please let my know how you like it, I'm trying to make all my characters seem real, though I am not sure how Robin comes across, its mainly him that I am worried about. I have read so many books where I really don't care for the way he comes across. I am trying to base my Robin on the Robin from 'Outlaws of Sherwood' by Robin McKinley...

****REVIEW PLEASE****

Otto is pronounced 'auto'


	2. xxx Old Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

. . . and William Scathlocke woke up. He rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to banish the dream. Robert Huntington had come with Wilfred deLacey to rescue them. During the fight that ensued, Matthew was struck with a stray arrow which killed him. William hated that day even though that was the day that Marian had been released from her betrothal to Matthew Huntington. They'd all been friends, and he hadn't known then that he might, one day, wish to marry Sir Hugh FitzWalter's daughter.

'THUMP! THUMP!' Came a hammering at his bedchamber door. Then Cedrix, his gallic servant entered.

"Master William," Cedric began, "your father wishes to see you."

"Thank you, Ced, tell him that I'll be there presently."

Cedric bowed and retreated from the room. Will hauled himself out of bed. Hanging over the back on a chair were his clothes; fine brown hosen, a brown shirt, and a scarlet, sleeveless tunic. His slouched, ankle-boots lay beside his bed. He dressed quickly but before he went to see his father, Lord Phillip Scathlocke, he strapped a short dagger to the inside of his right forearm, under his sleeve.

William was two and twenty years old. His black hair was longer than was fasionable, he had green/gray eyes, and high cheekbones. He was thin and not very tall, but quite strong. And there was a scar running down his neck, just another reminder of that day nine years ago.

He didn't want to see his father. He could already see the conversation. It was going to be about his continuing of his unmarried stat. He hadn't told his father that he wanted to marry Marian, he knew how that'd be met. Marian was a duaghter of a first generation knight - though Sir Hugh had been knighted by King Richard, himself - and his family had held their title since the Norman invasion. His father was a pure Saxon, but his mother was a Celt, a fact which his father had managed to cover up, it was easy since she'd had a more saxon look about her and had died young, before anyone could notice. Since they were Saxons the Scathlockes could never rise far, this was why Phillip wished his son to marry a proper Norman lady, like Mary deLacey, the Sheriff's daughter. William could not stand Mary nor her brother Reynold, they were arrogant and excessively proud of their Norman blood. Will had another reason to dislike Reynold, the pale, gangly, freckled boy was after Marian, he'd been sweet on her since they'd met when they were small children.

Will frowned as he exited his bedchambers and strode down the hallway to his father's study. He knocked before he opened the door and entered. He saw his father sitting at his desk, writing on a piece of vellum.

"Father," William said flatly to announce his presense.

Phillip looked up at his son. "William, please sit down," his father gesturing toward the empy armchair in front of hsi desk. Will sat down and slid low down in the chair. His hands resting in his lap. "William," his father began, "you are no doubt aware of my wish for you to marry Sheriff deLacey's daughter, Mary."

"Yes," Will responded shortly.

There was a long pause of silence before his father said, "What do you think of her?"

Will refused to look at his father, but rather stared blankly at his hands. He waited to hear his father's exasperated sigh before he opened his mouth to answer. "She's - " he began, when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Lord Phillip said blankly.

Phillip's personal servant, Carl, entered and bowwed. "My lord," Carl said slowly, "Lord Guido of Gisbourne, is here to see you."

"Have him wait in the library," he said, then he turned to William and said in a menacing tone, "We shall continue this conversation later."

When the door clicked shut behind his father he sighed, relieved not to have to answer that question to which his answer would have led to more question's whose answers he would be more reluctant to disclose. Then he rose and stormed out the door, making a path towards the stables, and strangely as he stomped through the halls he began to wish that Michael, Nold's son, was there. But Michael wasn't, he had entered the priesthood several years before.

When he reached the stables through the courtyard, he stood and inhaled the sweet scent of fresh hay, horse manuer, leather, and saddle soap. It always made him calm, he wasn't quite sure why but it did, but he thought maybe it had to do with the closeness to the animals and to the earth, and to nature. He remembered his first visit to the stables, it had been when he was five-years-old with his mother, Adelaide . . . Everything had seemed so large then and almost magical, the proud, magnificent beasts allowing humans to sit upon their backs. Ever since that day he had loved to be in the stables and around horses. His mother had let him ride her favorite palfrey, Avis, that day; the stablemaster, Otto, had shown him how to brush her down and how to clean the mud off of her hooves. That was the first day he'd riden a horse, that was also the last time he'd seen his mother well. The next morning she had woken up with a fever, and within a week she'd had been so listless that she didn't even recognize him and he'd been banned from the sick room, a week later she was dead. It had seemed surreal to him, they had had such a good time one day the next she was ill, and then she was gone; even today, it didn't seem quite real.

"Milord, William, which mount would you like today?" Otto's dry voice interupted his reverie.

Will started. "Yes, Otto, I would like Gnash today." He saw a look of concern enter the old stablemaster's eyes, but he didn't say anything, as he left to saddle Gnash. William understood Otto's concern; Gnash was a large, wild, black stallion. Just last week he'd thrown Robbie, the stable boy, breaking his arm so badly that it had needed to be amputated. Normally, Will wouldn't ride him, normally he'd ride Ash, his brown gleding, but today he was feeling reckless and wanted to feel the wild, untamed energy of Gnash beneath him.

Soon, Otto led Gnash to him and helped him to mount. William nodded his head in thanks and urged the horse toward the gates of Scathlocke castle. But before he could even get out of the courtyard Gnash threw his head and reared back. Will fought for the reins and to remain in the saddle, fear and adrenaline surging through his veins. Then the stallion's hooves slammed into the cobblestones, rattling every bone in his body. He glanced around at the nervous faces around him and gave a wry smile before he rode out of the courtyard. He set off to the north at a trot. As soon as he was out of sight of the castle he changed his direction to the south, towards Sherwood, then he released his heavy hand on the reins and let Gnash gallop. The wind blasted his hair out of his face, whipping his cloak back. His face was being lashed with the black mane, but he was content to feel the surging muscles beneath him, it was obvious that this horse loved to run.

As he rode William forgot about the world and didn't realize where he was going. Until he heard the sound of hounds on a scent coming from his left, then a sleek brown hound burst out of the tall grass right in front of him. Gnash reared, letting out a blood chilling scream. This time as Will fought to hold his seat and the reins, he was losing. He fell back out of the saddle, slamming into the ground, his breath leaving him. The last thing his saw before his world went black was the stallion's black back coming down toward him fast. 


	3. xxx Old Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

"Cedric, where is my son?" Phillip asked, his rage barely concealed.

"My Lord, I am not sure. But," he started before his lord could begin to fume, "Stablemaster Otto syas he left on Gnash on a northernly course, this was confirmed by some of the guards who were on the wall at the time.

Phillip glared at the gallic boy, He was fumming when he came back from his meetting with Lord Guido of Guisbourne, the Sheriff's cousin, and his son hadn't been there waiting, and no one could find him. " Send out a search party."

"Yes, my lord," Cedric replied subserviently, before quitting the room. Quickly he gathered all the servants who could ride horses; Otto, Nold, Frederick, Tam, and five of the guard. When they were in the courtyard, with horses saddled for all, Cedric told them what they were to be doing. "Men, Lord Phillip's son, Will, left here this morning with a course to the north, and hasn't yet returned." When Cedric paused here, Tam, Nold, Otto, and Fred shifted uneasily. Cedric knew why, Master Will was well liked among the peasantry and helped them when he could, he made their lives better and were thankful for that. "We are to search until we find him, or his corpse," Cedric wasn't sure why he'd added the bit about a body on, but it seemed more likely that they would find a body in this violent storm that was brewing.

As they set out into the sprinkling rain, they all had grim, hard faces. Soon they were all soaked through, and couldn't see for from the road through the pouring rain. After they had been riding for several hours and the sun had gone down - not that it'd been that much help anyway - they came across Huntington Castle.

"We stop here," Cedric shouted over the over the din of the rain. He wanted to stop and see if any of the guards had seen William, and if they would help.

As they drew closer, Cedric and all of the men began to feel a bit intimidated by the size of the castle, that was its purpose obviously. When he dismounted from his horse in front of the gate, he shivered, this cold, wet wasn't good for them so it definetly wasn't good for William, wherever he was. He turned to look at the other men who were shivering in their soaked cloaks. Then he turned to the large, wooden gates and pounded on them with his fist causing them to shake. After a few moments the gate was opened by a very annoyed looking steward. He glared at Cedrix, his lip curled up in a sneer. "Yes," he said in a condescending tone.

Cedric cleared his throat before speaking, "We are searching for our master's son, William. We wish to know of he passed by this way. And, also, if your lord, the earl, would lend us some of his men to help search."

The steward glared a bit more, as he glanced around at his party. "You might as well come in out of the rain," he said with a look of distaste.

Cedric nodded, then gesturedd for ht emen to follow him as he led his horse into the courtyard of the castle courtyard. There the rest dismounted adn they followed the steward into the entrance hall of the castle. The steward looked at them, "Wait here," he ordered.

The dripping men stood uncomfortalbly waiting for the surly steward to return with his master. The huge hall echoed with the shuffling of their booted feet and the clink of the men-at-arms weapons and armor.

Several minutes later the steward returned with a tall youth. The young man had a long shock of pale hair, dark brown eyes, and an utterly blank, controled expression.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice expressionless, "My father is not here, neither are my elder brothers, Richard and Benjamin. I am Robert, and I will allow you to take twenty of my fathers guards to aid you in your search, I will also join you."

"You are very generous, milord," Cedric said with a bow, "But it isn't necessary for your lordship to accompany us."

"No, it's not," Robert said in his empty voice again, "But I will."

Cedric bowwed and led his party back into the wet courtyard to wait for Robert Huntington adn his men to join them. Within moments Robert was among them, after donning on a cloak. He looked at the small party from Scathlocke Manor. "We'll split into three groups, ten men to each, to search. One going south, one continuing north, and one to the north," Robert shouted over the howling of the wind and the pounding of the rain. He hadn't asked if he could take control, he just had. And a part of Cedrix was thankful and relieved, he now felt they had a better chance of finding Will.

Cedrix knew that Robert was newly returned from the Crusade, he'd led men and knew search tactics that a young gallic servant could never know. Cedric found himself in Robert's group going back south on a different road. The fields around tehm were of tall grass. After a while, Cedric could see a manor off in the distance through the misty haze. Then Robert pulled his mount up short. Cedric rode up next to him, "What is it, milord?"

Robert pointed to a dark shape lying on the road in front of them. The figure was wearing a scarlet cloak. "Master William!" Cedric cried out as he lept from teh saddle rushing towards his lord's son. He skidded to his knees in teh mud beside William. As he checked the young man's pulse, he heard Robert's footsteps behind him adn the flickering torchlight meant that Nold who'd been carying the torch was also approaching. Robert knelt beside Cedric. He looked carefully at Will's arm, which was bent awkwardly, then gently felt his ribs.

"Broken arm, adn some ribs," he said succintly. Cedrics face immediately belyed he worry. "It's a clean break, " Robert said to allay the gaul's concerns. Robert then stood and began directing the men how to consturct a litter with a few cloaks.

"Where are we taking him, sire?" Cedric asked as he helped move William's limp body to the litter hung between two horses.

"My uncle's lands are just there," Robert said pointing, "We'll take him there."

Robert stood before a roaring fire with his uncle, Henry Montificent. Henry was his mother's brother, and they'd always been close adn had always understood one another. Henry understood what his nephew had gone through in the Holy Land and why he was much changed and more guarded than before. Montificent had let the pary in without question and without word except to send one of the men to fetch a healer-priest from Fountain's Abbey. The unconscious boy was in bad shape, he could tell that from Robert's face.

"Robert," Henry said kindly, "What happened to the boy?"

His nephew continued to stare into the fire, his blue eyes reflecting the fire light. Montificent was considering repeating himself, when Robert stirred, as if he had just heard. "I don't rightly know. The gaul, Cedrix, said that the boy, William, had been riding a beast that was too wild for even their best rider to ride. From teh extensice bruising on his back and chest and the other injuries, I believe he was thrown, and the horse rolled on him a bit," Robert said slowly, never taking his eyes from the rippling flames.

Henry nodded then left Robert to go see how the boy was doing.

William had been placed in his son, Stutely's room. The door was open an a fire was raging in the fireplace. His wet clothes had been removed and spread before the fire. He was wearing a pair of loose fitting trousers of Stutely's that Henry had given them permission to use. The boy lay on top of the covers - still unconscious - and Montificent could see the sever bruising that Robert meant on the boy's pale skin.

The only other person in teh room was Cedric, the young man's servant. The tall gaul stood by the bed side; his thick, blonde hair was pulled back and his beard closely trimmed, his face was belying the worry that he was trying to conceal, his fist pressed to his lips. Henry lay his hand on Cedric's shoulder, and felt the tall youth jump beneath his touch. "He'll be okay, I sent your man, Nold, for Brother Gwydion, he should be here soon," Henry said, trying to soothe the lad.

Cedric only nodded his head, never taking his eyes from Will.

William was heavy with fever, his mind wandering heatedly through half-forgotten memories. He was reliving many of the bad ones . . .

He was eleven-years-old again in the forest with Reynold deLacey and Robert Huntington. Will had been walking on the fringes of Sherwood when Robert and Reynold - who were fifteen at the time - had ambushed him, pulled a sack over his head and dragged him to a secret spot in the woods. He kicked out, trying to escape, but all he got was a hard cuff over the back of his head that brought tears to his eyes. He shouted out only to receive a blow to his gut that doubled him over. Through the rough, brown cloth he heards some cruel laughter as he groaned in pain. He let out a yelp when the sack was ripped off his head along with some hair. He was on his knees, his arms wrapped about his stomach. He starred at the two pairs of booted feet in front of him. His raised his eyes to look at his two tormentors.

"The saxon filth dares to look at us, Rob," Reynold sneered to his blonde companion. Then before William could move out of the way Reynold kicked him in the jaw sending him spread-eagled on his back. He brought a tentative hand up to his face; his lower lip was split and crying blood, and his nose was also gushing blood. Then Reynold planted his heel into Will's sternum causing him to gasp. He rolled over to his side, gasping; and he saw another foot coming in for a kick, he looked up into Robert's eyes . . .

William came to with a scream of pain, jerking to try and sit up. Everything hurt, everything burned, he wanted desperately to get away. He tore at was holding him. He heard someone mutter a curse through clenched teeth. Pain was burning through his left arm, and the left side of his chest. He arched attempting once again to escape whoever was holding him down.

Robert and Henry were holding Will's shoulders down, while Cedric held his legs. Brother Gwydion had just set the bone in William's arm. As he bound and splinted it the men loosened their grip. Will opened his green eyes to look about, he was in a strange room surrounded by people he didn't recognize. Ced was at his feet and the man tending to his arm was a man of the cloth. The man on his right had grayish blonde hair and hazel eyes and the man by he left, next to the good friar was . . . ROBERT HUNTINGTON. His eyes narrowed as he glared at the once bully. Robert must have felt the malevolence in his gae because he looked him in the eye and left.

'Why is he here?' William snarled to himself. He remembered what had happened before it'd gone black. Gnash was gone, he didn't care, the beast could be dead for all he cared. He didn't know where he was but his body was too relaxed to ask where he was. He could hear the friar saying something but he couldn't understand. Then he began probing Will's ribs. Will gasped in pain when the brother pressed on his lower ribs, then he slipped into darkness again. 


	4. xxx Old Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

When William opened his eyes, again the room was a great deal brighter. He could see nothing, but when he attempted to sit up, he gasped in pain and fell back. "Master William?" he heard Cedric say in a bleary, sleepy voice. Then there was a scraping of a chair against the rush-strewn floor and the shuffling of feet. Then he saw Cedric.

"Help me up," Will demanded.

"I'm sorry, milord," Cedric said quietly, "but Brother Gwydion has instructed that you aren't to move for at least a week."

"Help me up," Will repeated himself.

Cedric looked torn; between a direct command from his master and his worry for his welfare. He sighed, and then helped William into a sitting position.

"Where's my clothes?"

"Drying, milord," Cedric said hoping his master would change his mind and lie back down.

"Well, fetch them," William ordered, something he rarely did and sent Cedric scampering for the door.

Will sighed and looked about the room. A fur rug was laid in front of the fire along with a few chairs. On the east wall - under a window - was a writing desk with every thing put away neatly. He looked down at himself. His chest was bound tightly in white bandages evidence that his fall had damaged him, and then he saw his left arm was in a splint, everything he remembered from the night before came rushing back. Robert of Huntington has been there, 'Why?'

Cedric had to help Will get dressed and despite his ardent protests, his master insisted on bidding farewell to the lord of the manor and to return to Scathlocke Manor. When the party returned with William, they were praised for finding him and given letters to deliver to Robert Huntington and to Henry Montficent expressing Lord Scathlocke's gratitude towards them both. William, however, was scolded for his disobedience.

Several weeks later, after Will had healed, they received an invitation from Sir Hugh FitzWalter imploring them to attend a feast he was holding in celebration of his son, Mark's, safe return from the Holy Land. His father summoned William.

Outside it was raining gently, the farmers were grateful for it in the height of summer, long, soaking rains were what the fields needed and they were hard to come by, but William was not happy. The rain was spoiling the roads and it was treacherous to try to ride through the fields and meadows, therefore, he was trapped inside the manor with Eleanor, his sister.

"Yes, father," William said as he entered his father's anteroom, off of the main court where he heard the grievances of his serfs.

"Ah, Will," Phillip said as he turned from the misted window. "Sir FitzWalter has invited us to share in his joy at his son's return, as you are friends with young Mark, you may attend."

"Thank you, father," William replied in a submissive tone with a bow of his head. He and Mark FitzWalter had been passing friends but when Will had gone to visit Mark, he was really going to see his younger sister, Marian. Will really didn't want to go, public functions had always made him nervous, though he wasn't sure why. But he was going to go because he hadn't seen Marian since last Christmas.

The next week passed swiftly for his sister, Eleanor, but for William it dragged by. He was to take Cedrey along and he, Will, was supposed to keep a close eye on his younger sister. Neither of these two details made him very happy but if he didn't comply, he wouldn't be going.

Eleanor rode beside him on a dapple, gray, palfrey. Her black hair was caught back with a silver comb, and she was wearing a beautiful lavender dress. In a word, she was sublime, and Will was unhappy about it. Normally he would be proud of his sister but tonight he was to keep men away from her. Cedrey was riding always behind them, silently.

"Will, what's Marian like?" Eleanor asked.

William sighed, he didn't really want to talk about Marian, but since she was their host's daughter he supposed that he should tell his sister a little about her. "Well," he said, not knowing where to begin, "She's not like . . . she's not like her mother. You do remember Lady Sarah?"

Eleanor nodded.

"Well, Marian isn't a bit like her."

"Why?"

Will cursed silently; of course, his sister had to ask a difficult question.

"Well, why?"

"She just is, okay!" he snapped. Marian was special, she wasn't like any other women that he knew and she was the opposite of her mother, who had died two winters earlier.

"That's no reason to be nasty about it," his sister said calmly. "You've been like that a lot lately, you make father really sad and disappointed in you."

Will snorted, but he didn't reply. His father had been ashamed of him for so long that sometimes he even forgot why. Moreover, right not he did remember, but he didn't really want to. He shook his head to banish those rampant thoughts.

"Fine, be that way William," Eleanor said primly.

"What?" Will asked.

"Nothing."

"Yes, it is 'something' you bothered to say something about it."

"No, William, it's truly nothing."

Will snorted for the second time in the last ten minutes. He wasn't sure why he was being so belligerent with his sister, he just was. He was angry at everything and he wasn't sure why, he'd been short tempered with Cedrey lately. The tall Welsh boy didn't deserve the tongue-lashings his master gave him he just stood and bore it, without even a flicker of annoyance. That was something that Will would never be able to do, to stand and accept a verbal beating that he didn't deserve, he could barely stand them when they were well deserved on his part.

He looked around, the lands surrounding the FitzWalter Estate was beautiful, as if everything that grew on their land had to be lovely.

Mark was standing on the porch, at the top of the steps. He wore a tunic of the purest white with a brown shirt underneath. His light brown hair had been trimmed short, Norman in style. When Cedrey, Eleanor, and William dismounted, stable boys took the horses with promises to care for them.

William was scowling, he didn't want to exchange pleasantries with Marian's brother, he just wanted to speak to her. Then as the approached Marian walked, no, she floated, out to Mark's side. She was wearing a white gown with a blue surcoat. He black hair done up in intricate knots. She laughed at something her brother said. Then she turned her violet eyes towards him and her entire face lite up with a smile, and she rushed up to greet him and his sister.

"William, how wonderful it is to see you," she said grinning.

"Likewise," was all Will could manage.

"And, its Eleanor isn't it? Just like our queen-mother," Marian said in a bubbly tone.

"Yes, it is, Lady Marian," Eleanor responded politely with a curtsy.

"Oh, don't bother with the 'lady; we're all friends."

Will looked over at his younger sister who was positively beaming. He put on a fake smile, just to appear like he was enjoying himself as Marian rushed off to greet other guests. He knew he wouldn't have a chance to speak to her until later and for now he would have to, at least, appear civil.

It was dark out when all the guests had finished arriving and they'd eaten. Eleanor had forced him to dance with Mary deLacey and Ruth deClarione, but otherwise he stood by where the wine and ale were being served, drinking and watching everyone his sister danced with, which was almost every young man there. The man she danced with the most was Sir Richard of Lea. Will had never spoken to Sir Richard but he knew his father was Sir Richard Sr.'s friend.

Slowly it grew late, he still hadn't spoken to Marian, and he was a bit drunk. Mark walked up with a few of his friends, including Reynold deLacey, and they stood talking about the Crusades. Mark was speaking. " . . . his name was Liam, he was in the King's Private Guard and he curried more favor than even Robert of Huntington, he was the best liked and what made it worse was that he was Welsh . . . "

"Why's it a problem that he's Welsh?" Will asked furiously, the alcohol making him more reckless than usual.

Mark turned his dark eyes to William and said, "It wasn't just that he was Welsh, he was only half, and I cannot imagine what type of Englishman, much less Norman, would bed a blousy cow from Wales."

Will's eyes went flat with anger and he set his drink firmly down, causing it to slosh out. Then he swung a fist at Mark's face. Mark staggered back then dove forward, slamming Will to the ground. Mark landed several hard punches, knocking the wind out of Will as he struggled to get to his feet, one of the punches grazed his cheek and a ring sliced his face open. But then Wilfred deLacey dragged Mark upward and restrained him. Will leapt to his feet and moved forward to get Mark again, but Robert seized him and pulled him back. Will struggled against Robert's firm grip but it was useless, his captor's grip was stronger due to more time wielding a sword.

The Sheriff released Mark and both had moved on. However, Will's blood was still boiling and he still fought to free himself. When Robert finally released his grips on Will's arms, he staggered forward then straightened himself. He looked up: there was Marian, her expression was blank but there were tears in her eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but she spun and disappeared into the crowd.

Will sighted and straightened his tunic and looked around for Eleanor and Cedrey. Eleanor was talking to Sir Richard the Younger again and Cedrey was standing stoically in a corner, watching everything. Will then turned and left the hall and teh entire house. Cedrey was bound to see that Eleanor was fine; this William knew and was the only reason eh could leave. He could no longer stand it in there, yes, he was drunk, that was part of the reason, and the other was that he knew Marian wasn't going to speak to him this night. Therefore, he was going into Sherwood. It was easy to loose oneself in that vast forest.


	5. xxx Old Chapter 4

A MAN CALLED WILL SCARLETT – Chapter Four

Will woke the next morning in a vast tree on the edge of Sherwood. He stretched, careful not to over-stretch and fall out of the tree. He groaned. Will didn't want to climb down or go home, he knew his father wouldn't be happy about the fight even though it had been Mark's fault for making a cruel comment about being half-Welsh – even if no one knew that Adelaide had been Welsh.

Will settled himself into the fork of the two branches, content to remain there as long as he pleased. He sat there, breathing slowly, enjoying his temporary freedom. Then he heard someone walking slowly through the grass below him. Will looked down it was Marian. He sat back, remaining; he didn't want to see her, either. However, she stopped beneath his tree.

"Will, get down here, now," Marian demanded in a tired voice.

Will leaned down to look at her. "Make me," he retorted.

"William, I'm not in the mood."

"Well, neither am I. Go away."

"No!"

Will groaned and started down the tree. If he didn't, she'd just remain there and harass him, so the sooner he did as she demanded, the sooner he could return to the peace and turmoil of his thoughts.

"Why'd you attack Mark?"

"He attacked me first," Will said, surly.

"No, I saw it. Mark was standing there and you punched him," Marian said hotly.

"He insulted me."

"Well, that's no reason to hit him," Marian shouted, "use your words."

"It was the type of insult that requires physical aggression to remedy," Will growled.

"And what was the insult?" Marian demanded, crossing her arms.

"It's personal."

"Oh, I see," she paused, "you were drunk and wanted to fight."

"No!" Will shouted, exasperated.

"Well, what was it then?"

Will groaned and plopped down to the ground, putting his head in his hands. Marian sat down in front of him, placing the satchel she'd brought with her on her lap. She did not say any more, she knew him well enough to know that he was going to tell her.

"All right," he said lifting his head, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin on them. "All right," he said again taking a deep breath. "Mark was speaking about the crusades and was saying that a half-Welshman, Liam, was in the king's personal guard, and that it was shameful to be Welsh, but even more so to be half-Welsh, because it requires an Englishman to partake in the act."

Marian just nodded, she didn't understand what he was getting at but she hoped he would explain.

He sighed and started again. "My father he's . . . he's Saxon. My mother . . . she wasn't . . . she was Welsh."

"Oh, Will," Marian said, understanding. She leaned in and hugged him, forgetting for a moment that they weren't kids anymore. However, when she felt Will stiffen she pulled back, blushing. "Sorry," she murmured.

"'S'kay," he mumbled, looking at his hands. The he looked up. Marian's violet eyes were lowered; he followed her gaze to the satchel. "What's in the bag?"

"Oh," Marian was startled out of her thoughts. Then she started pulling the objects out of the bag. "A water skin, a clean rag, some herbs, a needle and some thread, for your face – if it's deep.

Will made a little whimpering noise.

Marian rolled her eyes, "You men are such babies."

Will nodded, then sat very still. She soaked the bit of cloth and cleaned his face around the wound, making the slight red puffiness stand out even more against his fair skin. After she cleaned the wound, she looked at him and smiled, it's not so bad."

He smiled back. A real smile, his smile Marian called it his little boy smile. It was crooked, but his eyes lit up and danced – just for her.

Will leaned back against the tree, drinking from the skin, "Well, we didn't get to talk much last night," he said with a mischievous grin, "When will I see you again?"

"We'll be at the Nottingham Fair next week, to watch the archery competition."

"I'll be there," Will said, smiling.

oOoOoOo

A week later William was bound for Nottingham with his longbow slung over his shoulder He was wearing simple clothes; brown trousers and a russet colored tunic but he was grinning widely. Today, was a good day. Not just because he was going to be seeing Marian, but it was a good day, one of those days were you feel that nothing can go wrong. He started whistling to the steady beat of his boots against the dusty Great North Road.

Then, ahead of him, he heard shouts; at first, he just assumed it was a bunch of kids. However, when one scream was cut off short and cruel sounding laughter followed Will knew it wasn't a bunch of kids skiving of their chores and hiding in Sherwood.

He started to run, whatever it was, he wanted to stop it.

When he rounded the bend what he saw made him stop short and caused bile to rise in his throat. Five men were surrounding a young girl. Another man was straddling her, a hand clasped over her mouth.

William froze, he looked at the girl's face; even distorted by pain and fear she had the traditional beauty of the Angles. For a moment he didn't see her blonde hair, blue eyes, and soft features; instead he saw Marian's dark hair, violet eyes, and delicate facial structure. Anger began to boil in his gut, 'No Norman – no man – has the right to do that to any woman, even if she is his slave.'

Deep down his rage boiled over, filling him with an almost insuppressible desire to shout out, to curse the winds and every god ever created by man, a dark need to hit things.

Without thinking he deftly strung his bow and put and arrow to the string. Carefully he aimed at the main offender and released. Tension sprang from his muscles through the taunt bow. The clothyard shaft slammed into the man's arm, pinning it to his body with a meaty 'THUNK'! The man toppled over with a great cry of pain. The five men turned toward William; as one, they drew their swords and began to advance on him.

Now Will's mindless movement abandoned him as he fumbled for another arrow. Thoughts kept roaring through is panicked mind. 'I just shoot the king's man. Oh, God, Wilfred's going to kill me. My father's going to kill me.' He loosed the bow, hitting one of the advancing men in the leg, taking him down. Quickly he fired another taking a third man down, the bolt hitting him square in the chest. 'Oh, Sweet Jesu, I killed a man.'

Then they were on him. Will lashed out with his fists, knocking another man out with a blow to the back of the soldier's head. Somehow one of the two remaining men had managed to wrap his arm around Will's throat and slowly began to squeeze. Will grabbed the man's arm and tugged, trying to make room so he could tuck his chin down. But it wasn't working, around the edges his vision began to fuzz, and his longs were burning, screaming for air, causing his body to convulse . . . .

"That's enough, let him go."

Then he was released. Will fell to his hands and knees, painfully drawing breath into his starved lungs. When the two vavasors dragged him to his feet he was faced with the sight of the first man he'd shot standing before him. His face livid, his teeth clenched. He'd broken the arrow off and the fragmented shaft was still protruding from his left arm. In that hand he held a riding crop.

'Oh, Sweet Jesu and Blessed Mary, no . . .'

"How dare you?" the man spat out. "How dare you . . . you Saxon filth, do this to me, the Earl of Essex."

Will just glared at the man, deciding to open his mouth right now, just might bring on his death. Not that the man might not already be considering just that.

Then Essex drove his fist right fist deep into Will's gut, doubling William over with a gasp of surprise and a small cry of pain. Then Essex transferred his riding crop to the opposite hand. He glared down at Will anger and hatred gleaming in his black eyes. Then he struck Will's face with the riding crop, throwing the boy to the side, before bringing it back again and repeating the action several times.

Then the vavasors released Will, he just fell to the ground, unconscious.

oOoOoOo

Essex and his two remaining men rode under the archway of the Sheriff's castle. He was still boiling as he stormed into the keep, shouting for the Sheriff. A young man with longish black hair tried to calm him, but he struck the youth aside.

A few minutes later Wilfred deLacey strode into the main hall, bristling, "What is the meaning of this, Essex? I was in the middle of a meeting!" deLacey shouted.

"Sheriff, you have not been keeping your roads free of brigands!"

"What do you mean?"

"On my way her, we were set upon by a young man with a bow. He killed three of my men, I just barely escaped, but not unscathed," with that he gestured to his upper left arm, bound with a white cloth.

"What did this man look like?" Wilfred demanded, still irritated that he'd been dragged out of his meeting with the Merchant's Guild, as well as worried about the safety to his esteemed visitors.

"Short, long dark hair, a Briton look about him. Plain clothes, but well made. He had a wild, roguish look in his gray eyes."

"William Scathlocke," the Sheriff sighed.

"Who?"

"Lord Phillip Scathlocke's son, the local hothead," Wilfred explained in a distracted tone.

"What are you going to do about Scathlocke's actions?" Essex demanded.

Guy stood in the shadow of one of the tall, marble pillars, his face betraying nothing as usual, but his mind was racing. He didn't want to be the one to inform William's father of his son's transgressions.

Wilfred let out a small moan. He didn't want to do this, if it hadn't been Essex he would have pardoned Will, it was probably a misunderstanding, the boy had quite a temper, and was susceptible to fits of anger and irrational behavior, but his job demanded that he do something in form of a punishment. "I'll put a price on his head; five silver coins, and when caught, he's to forfeit his bow fingers."

Guy was standing in a corner, avoiding Essex, lest he decide to strike him again. 'Will, outlawed.' Guy didn't understand it really. He and Scathlocke were good friends. He knew Will would have done not such thing, as killing a man, unless he had been provoked.

"Gisbourne," the Sheriff said, "you're to go and inform Phillip Scathlocke of his son's deeds and sentence." With that Wilfred turned and on his heel and quit the hall.

Guy stood in the shadow of one of the tall, marble pillars, his face betraying nothing as usual, but his mind was racing, he did not want to be the one to inform William's father of his son's transgression. But then again, maybe, Phillip would be able to pay the Sheriff and Essex off.

oOoOoOo

I would like to apologize that it has taken this long to put this chapter up. My sophmore year decided to attack me. I didn't have time for anything, I was stressed out all the time, but now I'm back, so here you go.

I would like to thank Alia Tantella Scott for her review and her suggestion. I would also like to thank my wonderful beta reader Oriel Kurosaki.


	6. xxx Old Chapter 5

NOTE: This has not yet gone through my beta reader. I sent it so him a few weeks ago and he hasn't responded, and I felt like I should be getting it up here.

And I would like to say, I really want to get Chapter Six up here as soon as I finish it, but I would like to get two reviews for this/previous chapters/the story so far/ before I get it up here. Sorry, but I want some feedback.

I will be getting to what Marian is feeling from the first part of this chapter in chapter 7, my friend was complaining about that, Gwyn, Gwyn, she's kinda a beta reader, but she does things like suggest that. And just to give you more incentive to review, the next chapter will be longer, and it'll have ROBIN & MUCH!! shrugs all my friends seem to think that that makes chapter 6 veerry important.

AND A QUESTION for you my readers: as you know this is called 'A Man Called Will Scarlett', but I have been considering changing it to, 'Shadows in the Forest' or 'Shadows Under the Oaks' or 'Shadows Under the Trees'. I want to know if which of those you like or if you want the title to stay the same, or original suggestions are also welcome. :)

A MAN CALLED WILL SCARLETT Chapter 5

Marian sat with her father under a pavilion. Mark had stayed home, not wishing everyone to see his black eye. It was late afternoon, the archery contest was now in its final round and she hadn't yet seen will, which was suprising.

She heard someone slid into teh chair beside her. She turned expecting to see Will loungin in the chair grinning foolishly. But instead she was met with Guy's grim face, slouching low in his chair.

"Why, Sir Guy, I do believe that you hae managed to look more depressing than usual," Marian said with a small smile.

"Guy rolled his eyes toward her then rolled them back and snorted. "I am NOT depressing."

"Why, Sir Guy, I do believe that many people here would beg to difer."

Guy didn't respond.

"Guy," Marian sighed, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he snapped.

Marian rolled her eyes, sometimes she felt like all boys wanted girls to act like their mothers. "Guy."

"You are acquainted with William Scathlocke, are you not?"

"Of course," Marian responded. "What are you getting at?"

"William has been declared outlaw," Guy said in a rush.

"What?"

"He attacked the Earl of Essex on the road and killed three men. Wilfred has put a price of 5 silver pieces on his head. And when he's captured, he will have his bow fingers hacked off." After Guy finished he glanced over at Marian. She had paled and she was staring at her white handkerchief that rested in her lap. It was obvious that she didn't want to believe it.

"Tomorrow, Wilfred as ordered that I take some men adn scoure some of the villages that are just inside the ourskirts of the forest," Guy said dourly.

"I hope you don't find him," Marian spat as she fled.

Gisbourne nodded his head in silent agreement.

oOoOoOo

Outside the sun was very bright, causing him to squint. When he could see straight he looked about. The house behind him was much like all the others he was scattered among the sparce trees. The spring sun was bright overhead; it was given a slight green hue when it filtered through the leaves. Some areas were shroud in shadowed, while others were dappled in sunlight. Outside of the huts there were ropes strung between two trees. On each of these blankets, rugs and various clothes were hung, creating the feeling that he was trapped instead of in the open forest.

Small children ran about -- their laughter, quiet -- hiding behind the drapped blankets. A few young women were beating rugs: their cheerful banter was carried on teh wind to Will's ears.

He hadn't the faintes clue where the girl -- Brighid -- was. He couldn't quite recall what she looked like, as if he had seen her in a dream, rather than having rescued her.

So he began to walk around. His eyes traveling over faces but he always looked, the people stared, falling quiet when he approached and after he had passed, their conversation would return in the form of fervent whispers. And a few bursts of laughter followed him. He was uncomfortable among larg groups of people, he always had been; especially people that he wasn't acquainted with. Subconciousely he found himself avoiding the clumps of people, only glancing in their direction to see if he saw a face taht seemed familiar. As he walked the trees were growing denser, but the ground was still free of underbrusg. All of it had been cleared for fires or to stuff matresses.

Soon he stumbled upon a small creek. Upstream he heard a woman singing. His instincts screamed at him to go the opposite direction, but he knew that song. He rounded a small bend to see a girl -- nay, a young woman -- washing a few tunics. A curious bubbling sensation filled his chest.

He cleared his throat. She stopped singing and spun around; it was the girl.

"Oh, its you," she spoke falteringly, fishing for something else to say.

"My name's Will," he interrupted her with a smile.

"Mine's Brighid," she breathed, looking relieved, "I am grateful for what you did."

"An act of honour, one that any gentleman would preform," Will responded with an incline of his head.

oOoOoOo

"Gisbourne, I want you to find William Scathlocke and bring him back. I am tired of the noble's thinking that they are above teh law. I don't know what Essex said or did that man William assault him, but I intend to find out, but I'll have to punish him, make an example of him. Do you understand, Gisbourne?"

"Yes, sir," Gisbourne responded blankly. He had learned many years ago never to show any emotion to Wilfred or his son, Reynold, because they would be quiet to mock him about it and turn it against him.

Wilfred's gray eyes flashed darkly, as if he knew what was running through his lieutenents mind; behind the carefully constructed mask that he always wore. "Then make it so," he snapped.

oOoOoOo

Please review!! Remember I have to get 2 reviews before you get the next chapter bwahahaha Okay, and Will's fuming right now, because nobody has commented on him.


	7. xxx Old Chapter 6

Shadows in the Forest

Shadows in the Forest

Scathlocke

Chapter Six

Much was lying in his bed trying to sleep, but sleep would not come for the him. At least not with the east that it always came for his master, Robin, who slept in the other room. Much had been bound to Robert as his manservant since before they'd left for the Holy Land three years before. Robert had offered Much his freedom when they had returned, but he had declined it -- it would have been strange to be separated after so many years of each others constant company, and saving each others hides sever al times.

Sleep had not been easy ever since Acre, the horrors seen, the screams of the wounded and dying, and among those cries of agony, had been that of his master. And every time he slept he would be swept back to the battlefield, where he had failed Robin.

Robert had been the captain of the King's Private Guard, and he was to guard his liege with his life. However, during the battle he'd been separated from his king. Much didn't know what happened, but it had ended up with his Master and Morgan deMaci as Saracen captives.

And once again Much wondered how Robert Huntington could sleep so peacefully.

oOoOoOo

Robin's sleep, however, was not as his manservant imagined it. His dreams also dragged him back to Acre and what had followed . . .

_'The sun beat down on the two armies that were entangled on the great plain that surrounded the great, fortified city of Acre. Somewhere during the fighting he had lost his sword, his Much, and his King. He was now wielding a dead Saracen's sabre; about Much and his King, he could do nothing until the battle was over. Somehow, he still had his English longbow and a quiver full of arrows strapped to his back._

_He paused for a minute searching for his King amid the field of blue, green, and red banners, and the red stained sand. The he saw him: his royal purple cloak hanging from his shoulders. And fighting by his side was Morgan deMaci, Robin's second-in-command. The King and his few men were being overwhelmed. It did not matter that everywhere else on this field of battle they were winning; their king was under attack._

_He dropped to one knee and stuck some arrows into the ground in front of him. Thoughts racing through his mind, but he wasn't paying them any heed, there was one thing he needed to do, and that required no mind. He began to fire off the arrows, his shots killing and maiming the men who wanted to take the life of his king._

_Behind him, he heard the falling of sand, but he didn't pay any attention to it, this was a battlefield. Then he was seized from behind and before he could fight back, he felt a searing pain tearing into his right side between some ribs. He screamed and tried to turn, but the man had released him and Robin fell to the ground, pain coursing through his body. He tried to rise, but failed, his strength was fleeing. _

_He didn't know how long he had lain there -- slipping in and out of consciousness, bleeding, and in pain -- when a young Saracen -- younger than himself -- stood over him, his sword point resting on Robin's chest. "Yield?" the boy said in a thick accent, it was probably the only English word he knew._

_Robin nodded through the pain. In the back of his mind, he knew he shouldn't but he could bear the thought of being killed as he lay on his back, in the sand, in a foreign land, without his sword. To him, both seemed to carry equal shame. Moreover . . . he wanted to see England again, he wanted to see _her_ again._

oOoOoOo

Much woke up to a scream. He bolted out of his bed, a knife seeming to appear in his hand. He shot through the door into his master's room, his eyes straining to see something in the faint light, and deep shadows cast two candles. Much seized one and used it to light the rush torches that hung on the walls. "Master?"

"It's alright, Much," Robin said softly, rising out of bed.

Much's eyes followed his master, not willing to trust Robin's word. He could be bleeding out his life's blood and still protest that he was just fine.

He knew Robin hadn't been _'alright'_ for a long time. Not just from the crusades but also since before, they'd left. Robert would never admit it but when Lady Marian FitzWalter had scorned him, and shouted her disapproval of his leaving, it had hurt him – deeply.

Robin turned his head to his friend, "Still here, Much?"

Much shifted his feet, looking at the ground, when he looked up to answer he saw the gentle, laughing smile on his master's lips.

Much just nodded silently, catching the slight laughter in his voice. "Acre?" he asked quietly.

Robin just nodded as a tear rolled down his cheek.

oOoOoOo

Marian awoke with a start, her heart racing. She knew that the dream that she had just had was the product of her worries about Will.

She still couldn't believe it.

She could not believe it.

She could NOT believe.

She didn't want to believe.

She refused.

Her palms were sweating and the cool breeze that was flowing into her chambers left her cold and feeling ill inside. "Why?" she asked the silent air, agony in her voice, wishing she could be asking Will that question. He was her best friend, he always had been. He'd been the only one to talk to her when nobody else wanted to talk to the strange FitzWalter girl. She never had asked him why he'd come to talk to her that day. But she though it was because they were all the same: her, William, Guy, and Lambert – they were the dark-headed and strange-eyed among the blondes and brunettes, and pale-eyed children.

She remembered when she'd first met him. _Geoffrey, the late king Henry's eldest living son, had had a son of his own, Arthur. The boy was healthy and had made it to his first year. The entire country was celebrating. All the nobles in Nottinghamshire were at the Huntington Manor celebrating. Her mother and father had been invited and had dragged their two young children along._

_There were a few rooms off of the Great Hall where the main party was taking place. Scattered about the room were the nannies of several of the children and they had been instructed to watch the other children as well. Mark had rushed off to find his friend, Robert, leaving his younger sister on her own; she remembered standing in the entrance way twisting her hands in the cream fabric of her dress. She recognized several of the girls sitting in small groups; whispering, her mother had dragged her to their houses to meet them, but the only laughed and ignored her._

_Then she had stared at her feet, clenching her fists, feeling terrible out of place, and fighting the urge to cry. She would NOT cry here, in front of all these people and give them the satisfaction of knowing that they'd gotten to her. _

_A hand touched her shoulder gently and she looked up into his serious grey-green eyes and flashing smile._

"_How are you, milady?" he said politely, sounding very rehearsed, then his words seemed to stumble over themselves. "My name's William, but everyone calls me Will, 'cause my uncle is a William. This is Guy," he said gesturing to the taller boy behind him, who had the bluest eyes she'd ever seen, under a mop of black hair, and a dark, brooding expression, "What's your name?"_

"_Marian," she had squeaked, glancing down only to raise them again to his smiling face._

After that day he'd always been there for her, and to some extent, Guy had been there also. She just couldn't believe that he'd done this . . . but she always wanted to know why he'd done what he'd done. She wanted and explanation.

She also wanted an explanation – that she'd have to find within herself – to why she felt heartbroken and jilted.


End file.
